His Lady in Breeches

XI. Business

"What are you doing?"

Maxine blinked and found herself back in the present, facing the window while holding the curtains.

"I asked what you are doing, Max," asked Oscar's voice once again.

Maxine cleared her throat. She had been staring out into nothing for quite some time, perhaps longer than necessary. And to be caught not doing anything by Oscar himself would prove that the rest of her day would not be as good as when she awoke that morning.

Albin had risen earlier than her, giving her enough time to carefully work on her bandage around her chest and put on the uniform that Molly had fixed for her for it had been such a real struggle to be alone to do so since she came to the household. She even found herself whistling as she walked to the kitchen to have her breakfast with Molly, Lottie and Fanny. In fact, she had not seen Oscar until this very moment when she came back to Nicholas' room to fix it after he disappeared into his study to work.

"Are you deaf?" Oscar asked, voice growing nearer as he approached Maxine.

Maxine whirled around, face flushed. "I am sorry, sir. I was—I was curious of something I saw outside the window."

Oscar frowned and looked out into the street. When he turned to face her once again, his eyes were narrowed. "You have been neglecting most of you duties for days. I am this close," he uttered, lifting his hand to show her the small space between his forefinger and thumb, "to reporting your incompetence to his lordship."

Maxine blinked. "I am sorry, sir. I try my best."

"Then stop staring into nothing and work! Have you shined his boots?"

"I—I shall do that after—"

"Brushed his hats?"

"That I shall be doing the moment I—"

"Aired the slippers?"

"I am yet to set—"

"Have you sent missives to the tailor and the perfumer?"

"I will immediately do so—"

Oscar's eyes flickered with annoyance and impatience. "Is there anything you have done that is of significance?"

Maxine bowed her head with guilt. She had honestly found it difficult to keep track of everything a valet ought to do. It was hard enough to run around the household, waiting on Nicholas and his brothers for the past few days that she had neglected everything Oscar had mentioned. Yet it had been two days since Nicholas had any visitors. She should have done everything by then.

But Nicholas was no easy master as she had finally realized. He was nice, yes, and a very understanding master. But he had many needs that needed her assistance. Shaving, tying his cravat—although the two of them were yet to master it, putting on his boots, sorting his missives, getting him food and drinks, calling Albin or Oscar for other matters specific to their tasks, arranging his clothes, re-arranging them when he was not pleased, repeating the process if he changed his mind—to summarize it all, Maxine had concluded that she ought to have chosen a lady's home to serve for a lord such as Nicholas Everard was too much of a dandy than she would have wanted.

"You have traveled all the way from Theobald to work here in Wickhurst and decided to walk into our doors without further invitation," Oscar's voice said, drawing her to the current situation, "or have you forgotten? Did his lordship's baffling fondness toward you gotten into your head that you think you can simply ignore all of your tasks?"

Her eyes widened. She may not have had so much experience being a valet—in fact, she may have lived all her life being served and not the other way around—but she hated how Oscar was seeing her at the moment. But it was his job to see her that way—it was his job to maintain order in the household.